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Leah gave a humorless laugh. “I think you have proven your point. You may stop flirting with me in front of Mr. Newton.”

“Why would I wish to stop?”

She threw him a dark look. “To avoid my retaliation. Trust me, it will not be pleasant.”

He laughed, a deep, genuine sound. “I believe you.” He paused. “Are you promising that you won’t retaliate if I stop now?”

“No.” Leah positioned her foot over a knot near the base of the tree, hugging the trunk with one arm as she lunged upward. “The damage has already been done.” She managed to grasp the lowest branch while standing on the knot. It gave her just enough height to reach the largest bundle of mistletoe.

She felt Mr. Hawthorne’s hand on her back, the weight of his fingertips sending a thread of warmth through her belly. “I could have reached that,” he said with another laugh.

She ignored him, lifting the shears in her right hand and clipping off the entire clump of greenery. It fell to the ground, bouncing off Mr. Hawthorne’s shoulder on the way.

He groaned. “Listen—Miss Sterling. I must form an attachment before the end of the party, and I must convince that woman to marry me. I don’t have time to waste. Let us call our rivalry off now so we may both focus on our individual pursuits.”

As Leah stepped down from her foothold on the tree, Mr. Hawthorne’s hands gripped her waist, slowing her descent.

“After you just drove away my only prospect?” she asked. “How is that fair?” The moment her feet touched the ground, she turned, her face flushed. “Taking your seat at breakfast caused temporary damage. What you have caused Mr. Newton to assume today cannot be reversed. He thinks you are in pursuit of me now. Soon the entire house party will think that.”

Mr. Hawthorne stood close, watching her with a look of misgiving. “That’s not true. Miss Benson thought I had contrived to sit beside you. She was surprised when I invited her on a walk tomorrow.”

“She was?” Leah tried not to sound too relieved, but she couldn’t help it.

Mr. Hawthorne eyed her incredulously. “Pleased, are you?”

She bit her lip. “That still isn’t as damaging as what you have caused Mr. Newton to believe.”

He sighed. “You and Mr. Newton would never have been a match.”

Leah laughed in disbelief, her anger mingling with the sound. “You can’t be serious. Who are you to make such an assessment? You can’t pretend to know me at all.”

He drew closer. “I know you’re stubborn. You’re clever, determined, spirited, and well-mannered when you wish to be. Mr. Newton would have bored you to death, and you know it.”

Leah retreated a step, her back connecting with the tree trunk. She still held the shears in front of her, their blades hovering between Mr. Hawthorne’s body and her own. His brown hair fell in soft curls on his forehead, his eyes trapping her.

“Who should I pursue, then?” she asked in a faint voice, challenging him. “If you know best—tell me.”

Mr. Hawthorne scowled down at her. “That is not my place⁠—”

“Neither is it your place to interfere with my pursuits. Until you learn that, I shall continue to interfere with yours.” She slipped away from the tree, gathering up the fallen mistletoe.

Her skin was hot, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She was not accustomed to standing so close to a man. Surely that was the only reason she was so disheveled. She turned to leave, but Mr. Hawthorne caught her by the arm. “Wait.”

Her heart leaped as her feet halted beneath her.

He took one step forward, his hands lifting toward her hair. What on earth was he doing? One hand slid behind her head, just below the base of her bonnet, and the other reached above it. “Hold still,” he mumbled.

She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, which was mere inches from her face as he untangled something from the top of her bonnet. At last, he withdrew the small pine branch and tossed it aside.

Leah clutched her bundle of mistletoe so tightly she was sure she was squashing the berries.

Mr. Hawthorne stepped back, and she could finally breathe again.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

Mr. Hawthorne nodded, his eyes shifting to something over her shoulder. Katherine and Tom stumbled through the thicket, Tom nearly tripping on the bramble that had caught Mr. Hawthorne’s boot earlier.

“Do you think we have enough?” Katherine asked. Her lips pursed mischievously as she saw Leah with Mr. Hawthorne.